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Under the Umbrella
Under the Umbrella is the fourth episode of Gotham Knights which builds off of the events of "Hoodwinked," As White as Snow," and Fear Factor." It follows The Penguin as he attempts to seize power quickly in Gotham's underworld by tricking Rupert Thorne while Batman deals with being unable to save Harvey Dent and only barely being able to defeat The Scarecrow and Mr. Freeze. Synopsis The Penguin appears in Gotham City and goes on a crime spree, taking advantage of a morale-broken Batman. Story The weatherman had been wrong. It was raining: hard. As the drops fell onto the grim city and soaked it in water from the heavens, dousing the people on the streets. Only one of them was prepared for the bad weather, a plump and smartly dressed man stuck his umbrella up as if it were a spear as it spread its protective ring above his head. He smiled as he did it. He always carried an umbrella. His mother forced him to as a child. She feared he would catch pneumonia and die, like his father before him. It had been a day like today when the sky patched up and sealed his fate along with it. The man had never minded. Sure, his schoolmates and street scum would make fun of him for that, and his long nose, but the looks on their faces when they were on the ground and the ferrule was pointing at their neck made up for it. He knew he was never liked, despised would be more accurate, but he was feared. His only friends were his mother’s birds. She collected different varieties from around the world and kept them in an apothecary built into their house. He would spend hours there, as well as many umbrellas put to use for protection from something other than rain. But alas, when the mafia came seeking to find repayment for his father’s debts, they were seized. His mother died shortly thereafter, and though they took everything she owned, she was unable to gather the funds before she passed on. That duty now fell on Oswald. Though he hated the mafia for what they did, he admired them. The respect and fear they commanded, not to mention the money, gripped him. Oswald continued his walk until he reached his destination, flashing his odd smile at anyone, and everyone, he walked by. Their misery made him feel better about himself. He looked up into a building as depressing as any in the city, but a bit statelier. This was his destination. He pressed his gloved finger to a button outside of the door and spoke of an appointment to the intercom. The door unlocked and he waddled inside. He glanced at a golden umbrella stand to his left, but only briefly considered placing his in. He closed it up and placed it to his side to take with him. He climbed a stair flight before reaching a waiting room. A young brunette with a nametag that read “CANDICE” sat at the desk. “May I help you?” she asked. “I am here for an appointment with Mister Thorne with Oswald Cobblepot for three thirty, miss,” Oswald said in his most dignified tone, which he normally spoke with. The short little man repulsed Candice with his round body, pointed nose, waddle, and clothing choice. Though he may have been considered stylish a number of years ago, most of the people from that time were dead. He wore a top-hat, monocle, jacket, purple vest, and trousers and a bow-tie to match. On top of it all, he carried an umbrella. He reminded her of a mascot she had seen once for either sardines or cigars, she could not remember which exactly. “I’ll call you when he is ready,” she said. Oswald walked his waddle over to a seat in the empty waiting room and made a little hop to get in it. He waited for a moment before he heard a buzz over at the desk. Candice pressed a button, and it ceased. “Mr. Thorne will see you now,” she said. He hopped out of his chair and walked down the hall. Thorne was sitting at a desk, keeping his hands occupied by shuffling a deck of cards. He watched the door open with beady eyes, but if it were not for the top hat, he would not have seen Oswald enter. “Mr. Cobblepot, I presume,” he said as he caught a deck and refreshed the cards’ cycle. “Yes, sir,” he replied in the same tone he used on Candice. “I also believe you owe me money. My secretary emailed me this,” he said, pulling a pink sheet of paper out of a stack, “while you were waiting. I consider myself a patient man, Mr. Cobblepot. I put up with everyone from officials who can barely stand on their two legs to enforcers who can barely deal with a comedian to men dressed up as rodents and literal two-facers. I have been waiting for that money for twenty years now. How many businessmen would put up with that? I’m not in the mood for a yarn about how you can’t pay. Mr. Cobblepot, you will pay in one way or another, sooner than later.” “I was hoping I could offer my services, to repay my parents’ regrettable debt, sir.” “Do I look like a fool? Do you even know what you are? I’m not going to hire just anyone, especially someone like you. Though I admire that you actually showed up today and didn’t try to leave the city,” he threw in a laugh there, remembering something, an unfortunate soul, no doubt, “I am afraid I have waited long enough.” He pressed a button on his desk and two goons appeared in the doorway behind Oswald’s seat. “Take him away,” Thorne said casually, continuing to shuffle his deck. Oswald took his umbrella in hand like a sword. He jumped up onto his feet, and pointed it at them as if it were a foil. “Good day, gentlemen, but I’m afraid we have a conflict of interests here.” The goons advanced towards him, Thorne paying little, if any, attention. His back was now turned on them. Oswald did a back-flip, shocking both goons. The one whose arms were about to close around his body’s jaw-dropped and was quickly closed again by the trailing umbrella. Oswald landed on his feet, returned to his fencing stance. The first goon, whose chin was bleeding from the surprisingly sharp ferrule, took a swing at him but was stopped by the umbrella which caught in his armpit. Oswald hit a button on the handle and it expanded into a disk, with the force and surprisingly strong umbrella limbs ripped the man’s shirt, scarred his skin, and sent him flying backwards into the wall, knocking him out. It all happened so fast the second goon barely had time to react as he stood in amazement. By the time he had collected himself, Oswald had made another surprising jump and swung the umbrella behind the man’s neck. He fell to the ground, while Oswald landed gracefully on his feet. He stood over the man, wheezing a “Waugh” sound. While the goon tried to get up off his face, Oswald swung the umbrella a final time at the back of his head, leaving a red lump and his victim unconscious. When the sounds of the struggle stopped, Thorne turned around to admire his enforcers' work, but what he saw instead was Mr. Cobblepot poised stately as ever with an umbrella under his arm and totally unscathed while his men were lying on the floor moribund. Thorne weighed his options. He could call for more guards, with firearms, this time, or he could use Cobblepot. “Offer your services, eh?” he asked. “Yes, sir.” “You start tonight. I’ll arrange for a couple of enforcers to meet you in the back alley. I don’t care what you bring me, just make it worthwhile and do not get caught.” ‡ ‡ ‡ That night, Oswald filled his obligations and met with two goons in the alley. He had changed little of his garb from earlier in the day. He now had a tuxedo mask over his eyes, and monocle, no jacket or top hat, and a new umbrella. Though there was still a light drizzle, he wasn’t using it. The goons called themselves Woozy and Eel, and insisted Oswald use a codename too. Without even allowing him to get farther than opening his mouth, they called him Penguin, after some smoked-sardine mascot. He did not mind it though, it suited him. He even liked it. They were after the Forsteri Diamond, which Penguin had selected himself. The trio made their way to the museum walking through alleyways and dingy streets. They climbed a fire escape on an apartment building adjacent to the museum. While Eel and Woozy fumbled dangerously with a plank, Penguin glided on his umbrella above the street and onto the three-story high museum roof. Just as Eel and Woozy arrived, Penguin was fiddling with his umbrella again. Now the ferrule was lined up with a screw on a skylight. Pressing his button, it acted as if it were a drill. He repeated and removed the other screws until the skylight could be easily removed without any damage. He jumped through the gap in the roof into the museum below, his umbrella catching him in the air and allowing him to gently lower down. The goons followed, less gracefully. Everything went as planned, despite the clumsy goons. The security cameras were disabled, guards were adverted, and the Forsteri Diamond’s display case was reached. The umbrella’s ferrule was stuck into the screw heads once again, and removed. Penguin took the diamond, and as he did, a new, shadowy figure lowered himself from above. Penguin looked up and rubbed his monocle with a handkerchief over his mask. “I was wondering whether I would meet Sir Batsy tonight,” he said casually. Woozy had never encountered the Batman before, but Eel had. Despite the differences in experience, they both ran, leaving Penguin to face the Dark Knight on his own. Penguin assumed his defensive position again, the umbrella once again his blade. “You aren’t going with your friends?” Batman asked. His arms were shrouded under his cape with no emotion escaping from behind the mask. “I do not fly away so easily,” Penguin replied, not breaking his stance. Batman made the first strike as he finished speaking, but the thief moved out of the way, the blow coming as no surprise. “Penguins can’t fly; we make up for it with style.” “Penguin?” “Has a nice ring to it, doesn’t it?” With that, The Penguin jabbed his umbrella, drill bit-ferrule and all, towards Batman’s side. The vigilante slid out of the way, as Penguin had, and a tear in his cape was the only casualty. This is where emotion escaped the mask. Batman’s eyes slanted. The action intensified. Both men hit, jabbed, jumped, and blocked, but not a single one came to fruition. All were blocked or dodged. “Nice meeting you, Batsy,” Penguin said after five minutes of a stalemate, “but I really must be going. I have got a tight schedule to keep.” He opened his umbrella and pressed another button. Two pedals unfolded from among the limbs and extended downward, while the shaft grew taller and protruded handles. The disk closed back up and Penguin jumped onto his pogo stick and hopped away. Batman chased after him, but he was not fast enough. Penguin hopped from display onto display before he was high enough to escape back through the skylight. From the top of a case, Batman aimed a grapple gun and shot a line through the window. He rose through the roof just in time to see Penguin glide away. ‡ ‡ ‡ “Too bad about Mr. Cobblepot,” Thorne said, actually seeming undisturbed, “I thought he had potential. You know what you need to do now, right boys?” “Kill him?” Eel asked. “Are you asking me or telling me? Anyway, yes. We can’t afford too many more like Maroni,” Thorne said. “Good thing the world's greatest assassin did me a favor before they got him to squeel.” At that moment, the door opened and a top hat appeared at eyelevel for the three other men. “Get ‘em!” Woozy shouted, jumping over his chair and grabbing one of Penguin’s arms while Eel seized the other. “Unhand me!” Penguin yelled, wrestling out from their grips and losing his jacket to do so. “I have your diamond, sir,” he said. He pulled a white handkerchief out from a pocket, unwrapped the cloth it, and unveiled the precious stone. Thorne gently took the ragged rich and examined it with a close eye. “I need to get this looked at,” he turned to Eel and Woozy, “but you escaped Batman?” “I tarried with the winged-rat for a goodly session too. He couldn’t catch this slippery bird.” “Right,” Thorne said, with an eyebrow raised followed by a short silence. “If this diamond is real, then I think you have a promising future here with me, Mr. Cobblepot. I’ll give you one chance. If the diamond is a fake, give me the real one now and there will be no consequences.” “It is as real as you and I,” Penguin claimed, jutting his umbrella to the side and the ferrule into Woozy’s foot, followed by a squeal akin to a rodent from Woozy and a laugh that sounded exactly like his wheeze from Penguin. “Waugh! Waugh!” ‡ ‡ ‡ Batman spent what he could of the next day training himself. He knew he could catch “The Penguin” the next time they met as long as he could get his hands on the bird. If both men had not been able to move just as fast the other, they would not have been deadlocked so long. “May I convince you to take a break, sir?” Alfred asked. “No.” “Could I at least get you something to eat?” “No. Only liquids from now on.” “May I ask why? There are too many health risks. I won’t stand for it.” “I’m afraid I am losing my edge. I couldn’t fight Freeze, I went down with Crane, I wasn’t there for Harvey, and now I can’t even catch a fat, little man.” “Sir, there was no way you could have defeated Freeze with strength and speed. You needed to be clever, find his weaknesses, and use them against him. This Penguin fellow is the same way. Get some real food in your stomach and meditate on it. What you are doing won’t help you to take on others like them. How will you save Gotham and Harvey Dent when you can’t even save yourself? The game is changing. Adapt or die, as they say. I know you can adapt. I have seen your phoenix rise from the ashes before. You are not losing your edge, only your confidence.” ‡ ‡ ‡ Meanwhile, Penguin met in Thorne’s office again. Thorne was pleased, Penguin was not. The diamond had been confirmed as real, but Penguin was not to receive any pay for his work. It would only go towards paying off a tiny fraction his father’s debt, and interest. “I’m sorry, Mr. Cobblepot,” Thorne had said with little sincerity. “You have a bright future here, but I cannot let your debt go unnoticed. Keep up the work and my fortune should be paid back in four or five years. In the meantime, I suggest a day job. Have you considered modeling?” Penguin stormed out of the office the office. He could not be expected to sleep in a hotel another night with an unpaid bill. He had always been used to being rich, but his foolish father had to deplete their resources. A plan formed in his head; a way to pay back Thorne and rebuild his decadence sooner. He waddled off. He had work to do and an old friend to call. ‡ ‡ ‡ That night in a backstreet, Penguin in his mask again admired how what looked like the Forsteri Diamond sparkled like a star even under the dull streetlight. While he gazed, a man’s silhouette materialized at the head of the street. As he walked closer, Penguin watched him and held his umbrella as if it were a rifle (it was), in his direction. As the figure came into the streetlight’s weak scope, a faint blue shimmer not nearly as impressive as the diamond’s glow gleamed across a pair of sunglasses. Eel had arrived. “Why did ya' call me here, Pengy?” the newcomer asked. “I need a distraction, and you seem to particularly annoy Thorne,” Penguin replied, his umbrella still raised though he knew who it was. “It has been worse recently. You see, there was this incident with a comedian where…” Penguin cut him off. “I do not need to know. I only need your help. It is a rare honor, I would accept my proposition if I were you.” “What’s it pay?” “Ten percent,” Penguin replied, “and I am being generous.” “I never did too good in math, but that doesn’t sound like a lot. When Sal would give me fifty it wasn’t much.” “You have been cheated, poor sir. I will partake in no such treachery.” “Wait, how much is ten percent then?” “In this case, a few thousand and if you stick with me, it will add up quickly.” ‡ ‡ ‡ A few hours later, Penguin and Eel had mapped their plan mapped out and ready for action. Penguin had climbed the fire-escape on a nearby apartment building up to its roof. He was still in his mask, had a satchel over his shoulder, two umbrellas clipped to his right side, and gripped a third which he glided on a short distance onto Thorne’s base of operations, landing on his penthouse silently. Thorne would be in there by now. According to Eel he never retired later than eleven O’clock. Penguin snuck over to the ledge of the building and peered downward on the side which would hold Thorne’s office. He tied one end of a rope to his waist and the other end to a water tower’s supports. He lowered himself down the side of the building to the office window, all three umbrellas to his side. He examined the window. It was shatter resistant. Thorne had made many enemies, and he knew it. Penguin unclipped an umbrella, the one with the drill bit ferrule, and stuck it into each screw on the window to remove it as silently as possible. Two bodyguards listened to the sound of the drill from the inside and pointed their guns, unable to see anything because of a curtain. When one of them braved up enough to lift it and see what was causing the ruckus, he saw nothing. He turned back and opened his mouth to speak to his partner, but did not get that far before a ferrule unnoticed by either man poked from the top of the sill and sprayed an odorless, purple gas into the room. The two guards fell onto the floor as good as dead almost instantly. Penguin lowered himself again onto the sill, climbed into the room, and untied himself from the rope. He tugged the guards closer together and laid them against the door. Between them he placed a half-emptied, glass bottle he extracted from his satchel. He looked around the room. Eel was right. There were no cameras, since the tape could be used against Thorne if it fell into the wrong hands. He then turned to Thorne’s safe. He pulled a stethoscope out of his bag and listened to the tumblers. He cracked the combination and opened the thick door. Somewhere inside, amidst the stacks of cash, was the one thing Penguin was after, a small box with a diamond wrapped in his own handkerchief. After rummaging for only a minute, he found his diamond. He gently extracted it from the rag sentenced to hold something so much more precious and replaced it with the fake. Thorne would never know, unless he sold it to the wrong person who would use the crime boss’s life to pay for the Penguin’s cheat. He stepped onto the window sill, banded his waist to the rope’s tail, and resealed the window. He rose up to the roof, and disposed the rope. Penguin opened an umbrella, and glided away to another part of the slums. The guards woke up a short while later. They looked at each other, then down, grinned guilty smiles, and simultaneously reached for the green bottle they saw in the middle. ‡ ‡ ‡ The next day, Penguin entered another crime boss’ lair, Warren White’s. He showed White the diamond and made an offer. White’s face lit up when he saw the jewel and its sparkle. Penguin left with a full wallet and told him there would be more. Over the next few nights, Penguin repeated his actions. He and Eel robbed museums and jewelry stores to appease Thorne’s debt before replacing them with fakes the next night and selling them to White, who now insisted Penguin call him “Great White Shark”. ‡ ‡ ‡ “Mr. Wayne, may I speak with you?” A dark-skinned man in glasses and a suit asked. “Come in, Mr. Fox.” Fox entered from the doorway into Bruce’s office and carefully shut and then locked the door. “I’ve spoken with Police Lieutenant Gordon,” he began. “He wants our help in catching a jewel-thief.” “What do we have to do?” Bruce asked. He had been expecting the question. Batman had put the thought into Gordon’s head. “We need to create a trap to lure the thief here. I will take care of everything; we only need your okay.” “Just clean-up when you are done, Lucius,” Bruce said, unbothered. “And don’t let him get away with anything.” “Good day, Mr. Wayne,” Fox said reaching for the door knob. “Another moment please, Lucius. I have a list of things here I’d appreciate if you could pull together by tonight.” Fox glanced at the list. “I’m not sure what you are up to, and I am not sure I want to know, but I’ll get to it. Good day, Mr. Wayne,” Fox unlocked the door and left. “Bye, Lucius.” ‡ ‡ ‡ Rumors of Wayne Enterprises’ Pavo Emerald spread through the criminal underworld. Word was it was discovered by archaeologists Helena Sandsmark and Barbara Minerva in South America. It was purchased by Beatriz da Costa, the head of Brazil’s branch of Wayne Enterprises on behalf of the company. She insisted it be sold and the money be donated to the Wayne Foundation. Both Thorne and The Great White Shark wanted it for himself, and both wanted Penguin to get it for him. Thorne even promised to erase Cobblepot’s debt if the jewel was brought to him. Penguin donned his mask, arsenal of umbrellas, and set out. Outside of the tallest building in Gotham Penguin pointed an umbrella upward and flew up onto a ledge using a propeller on the inside. He unscrewed the window open and entered, coming in right outside of the security room. He shot a nearby camera with his rifle umbrella before it turned in his direction. The guards on duty noticed the black out. A door near Penguin opened and one of them exited to investigate, but found the strange man right outside the door. He held an umbrella and sprayed a purple gas, knocking out the guard on the outside and then the others on the inside. He climbed into a ventilation shaft and rose up another few floors before coming out in Bruce Wayne’s office. He knew that the jewel must be there somewhere. He glanced around. He saw no safe. Not even a locked desk drawer. He felt against the walls. There was nothing behind the bookcase (and not much in it either). There was nothing under the potted plant. There was not a wall behind Thomas Wayne’s portrait. Penguin stuck a blade-like ferrule behind the painting and pried it off the wall. There was the safe, behind it. Penguin waddled through the short, hidden hallway towards it when he tripped a wire. The lights went out and he heard several clicks coming from the office’s entrance. He rubbed his monocle from over his mask and squinted. Batman was directly in front of him, waiting outside of the passage. He aimed his rifle and shot it again, sending a bullet right through a coat rack. Penguin waddled over and examined. His mind must have been playing tricks on him again. He never did care for the dark without a flashlight. He hit a button on an umbrella and a funnel of light shot out. He shone it around the room and saw nothing, until he turned around. Batman was there, right behind him. Penguin did an odd roll to the side, escaping Batman’s arms. He pointed his umbrella-rifle at his adversary and pulled the trigger. Batman dodged the bullet and threw his own batarang, which Penguin knocked out of the air with his umbrella. Batman lunged at Penguin, who swung the umbrella again and hit his face, knocking him onto his back. Penguin pointed an umbrella at Batman’s face and used the sharp ferrule to cut a slash on both sides of his cape. “Oh, Batsy,” he said, “I feared I would never make your acquaintance again. I was worried my first impression scared you off.” Batman said nothing. Instead he kicked up at the umbrella sending it back towards Penguin who flung it down a second time cutting Batman’s right leg as he rose. Penguin hastily selected another umbrella, the one which sprayed the gas. Before he could pull the trigger, Batman grabbed onto the end of it. They pulled it back and forth. Just as Batman wrestled it away, Penguin opened it. The reinforced limbs caught him off guard and cut his forearms. He discarded the umbrella and lunged towards Penguin again. He hit and kicked but was repelled by a quick umbrella every time until he kicked up at the shaft and sent it flying out of Penguin’s grip and into the ceiling where the ferrule lodged itself. Batman pinned Penguin against the wall, nose to nose. Penguin took another umbrella from his side and opened it, setting its rotors onto Batman’s cape. The cape tugged at his neck harder and harder. Batman ripped off his cape, freeing himself, and flung it at Penguin like a whip. From the resulting whiplash, Penguin fell back and his umbrella flew out of his hand. He made a desperate dive for it. He evaded Batman and clipped it onto his waist again and replaced it with the rifle. He pointed it at Batman, but the Dark Knight was already prepared. He threw a black bolas Fox had made for him around Penguin’s legs just as the bird turned into action. He dropped his umbrella again and the others were now useless. He had been beaten. “Well played, my good man,” Penguin said. “Shall we shake on it?” He extended a hand. Batman said nothing and cuffed the outstretched arm. He then alerted Gordon with a phone and left. ‡ ‡ ‡ Thorne was furious, again. Not entirely because Penguin had been imprisoned, but because Penguin was imprisoned and out of his grasp. He wanted him dead. He knew he had been cheating him since Woozy brought him a letter he found in Cobblepot’s apartment from a lady named Marsha who had made and sold him the fakes. News of the Gentleman of Crime who had fooled Thorne spread across the underworld. He was prepared to hire a mercenary, only the same man who had murdered Maroni would do, to break Cobblepot out of Blackgate and then murder him in front of Thorne’s beady eyes when Candice came running in opened the door quickly and slammed it just as fast. “Sir, I tried to stop them, but they insisted on seeing you,” she said as she ran behind Thorne and took cover under his desk before the door opened again and three men walked through. White was in the center with an imposing bodyguard at each side. “Good afternoon, Rupert,” he began. “Is it really, Warren?” “I suppose it isn’t for you, which is precisely what I came to see you about. Pengy. I’m warning you Thorne. I like the little bird. We will tear this city apart, you and I, if you so much as ruffle a feather of his.” With that, White and his guards left, not even waiting for Thorne to respond; an all-out gang war was the last thing he needed. ‡ ‡ ‡ In Blackgate, Penguin was getting along well. As the man who fooled Thorne, he was treated with the utmost respect by most other inmates, and the ones who were less than kind found the ferrule of his orange jumpsuit’s new, matching umbrella pointed at their throat. ‡ ‡ ‡ Batman sat on the Bat computer, putting together a file on Oswald Cobblepot. He thought of finding Harvey, and how the city was changing without him beside Batman and Gordon. They had to fight tougher, and think harder. Without Dent there with them it could only get worse. The day outside seemed to get the same message. Despite what the new weatherman said, it began to rain. It sprinkled at first, but gradually fell faster and harder onto the unprepared populace below until it was pouring and drenching the city, leaving no inch dry, except those few prepared enough to take up what they could as a sword and stand under that umbrella. And some of them did. A woman exited a cab and opened up an umbrella, not giving attention to the drenched citizens as she stared up at a skyscraper. The ferrule pointed towards the seemingly endless heights of the tower- and towards her future.